


kuya, pa load

by kontj (kaguol)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Half-Filipino Iwaizumi Hajime, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:48:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28338711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaguol/pseuds/kontj
Summary: iwaizumi’s just the cute next door neighbor who manages their sari-sari store, and you’re just the idiot who’s a little too shy to talk to him.(yes this is also me projecting; title translates to: 'kuya, can i buy load?' and a lot of the dialogue is in filipino but there are translations)
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 25





	kuya, pa load

**Author's Note:**

> this is my entry on 'half filipino iwaizumi' and also me missing coming home to the province

people are excited for summer for countless reasons. for the lack of academic responsibilities, the extra time of sleeping in and staying awake, the overflowing liquor at house parties and the never ending mess of tomorrow.

your summers always involved watermelon slices and unripe mangoes.

your summers always involved him.

_hajime_.

his name was a song that came with the chorus of cicadas, his smile as refreshing as the water bottles he helped lug into your house. he was only around in the summer to help out his grandparents. he was the kind of boy that charmed parents into throwing their children into the fray — they wanted him as a son too.

and honestly, you can’t deny you haven’t been thinking the same thing. though every conversation you had with him was a transaction, it never failed to throw your heart into overdrive.

“kuya pa load,” you say for the third time that week. you wonder if he knows by now it’s been a ploy. there was no way you’d use up all your data _that_ quickly, right?

if he notices you twitching, he doesn’t comment, nodding as he wipes the sweat from his brow with the towel on his neck. as he reaches over to grab the old cherry mobile, you sneak a glance at his toned physique, cursing and thanking the gods for their creation.

he mouths out your number, a smirk on his face at your bewildered expression. “you remembered?”

“oo naman. parang araw-araw ka na narito eh.” _of course, you’re here everyday anyway._

he laughs when you look away, mumbling about it wasn’t for your phone. the insects chirp, filling the late summer air. you watch as the neighborhood children come out to play, chasing each other around with sticks, pretending to be faraway. in that moment, you capture the entire scene, knowing that it would be last you’ll probably have with him, as you’d leave your hometown for university that very afternoon.

you told yourself that you’d tell him — yet the words seem to die at your throat. what really was there to tell?

suddenly, your phone trills. looking down, you see the confirmation message. youlook him in the eye, muster up all the courage you had in you, conveying your faraway admiration with just a few choice words.

“salamat, kuya.” _thank you._

you walk away, face aflame. iwaizumi stands, shocked, before a smile creeps on his lips.“dong tulongan mo lola mo maghanda ng pagkain!” ( _son, come here and help your grandmother prepare dinner_ ) calls his grandfather, who quirks an eyebrow at the lovestruck expression on his grandson’s face. 

through the clatter of pots and pans, and the smell of adobo wafting through the air, iwaizumi’s mind is focused elsewhere. plates clatter as iwaizumi hurriedly sets the table, placing a kiss on his aging grandmother’s forehead as he runs to his room.

he had used up all three of your excuses to see him — the _patis_ , the load, and the magic sarap — but he wasn’t going to leave this town without your number.

he rushes to your place, knowing the route you took by heart as he’d stared at your retreating figure for too long. he can’t contain his grin when he knocks on your gate, running a hand through his damp hair.

he’s greeted by your tito, whose eyes widen at his arrival. “ _naparito ka hajime?_ ” he says, opening the gate with a creak. _what brings you here, hajime?_

“nandyan ba si y/n, tito?” he asks for you, bringing the older man’s knuckles to his forehead*. the man sees the blush on the boy’s face, and couldn’t help but chuckle. yet there was a sadness in them that confused iwaizumi.

“sama ng timing mo iho, kaka-alis nya lang.” _your timing’s bad, son. they just left._

“okay lang po, makakahintay naman ako,” he adds, as though he hadn’t been waiting for himself to work up the courage to talk to you. it’s okay, i can wait.

your tito shakes his head, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “di na ‘yun babalik iho.” they’re not coming back.

it is then that it clicks. your apprehension, your rush. you were leaving. for good.

just like he was.

he thanks your tito, apologizing for the inconvenience and rushing back home. he doesn’t let the tears fall until he’s in the comfort of his room, staring at the paper flowers he’d spent the last three months trying to perfect.

* * *

you sigh, gripping your bad close to your chest as you finally take a seat on the crowded bus. it had been a full month since you left for university — a full month without the comfort of a hot, homecooked meal that smelled of spices and herbs.

your mouth watered at the thought of food, and your stomach growled in assent. “may uupo ba dito?” _is someone sitting here?_

you shake your head, busying yourself by reaching into your bag for the tupperware of boiled eggs you prepared for the trip home. you hear your seatmate’s stomach complain as you open it, and you giggle, holding it out for them to take.

“kumain ka naman, kuya, gutom ka yata.” _eat up, kuya, you seem hungry._

familiar olive eyes stare into yours, your heart leaping in recognition. “y/n?” he’s the first to say, just as confused as you.

“kuya sari-sari!” you beam, making him laugh. he takes a boiled egg at your behest, dipping it at the packet of salt. “‘wag mo naman akong i-kuya, eh, ka-edad naman yata tayo,” he whines. _don’t call me, kuya, we’re like, the same age._

“nasanay na ako kuya,” you tease. _i’m already used to it, kuya_. “kung gusto mo, mahal nalang tawag mo ‘sakin.” _if you want you can call me beloved._

years of table manners taught you not to spit out your food, and he is no help, laughing as you choke on the boiled egg.

the rest of the ride is spent catching up, talking about your courses and finding out that the two of you had been living on adjacent dorms in the same university this entire time. he takes his time, memorizing the crinkle in your eye when you light up, and reminiscing about old neighborhood gossip.

your summers always involved watermelon slices and unripe mangoes — your school days filled with academic dread.

but this time, you’re in the city with the boy who smelled of sunshine and baby powder, who, after several years of chickening out, finally had your number.

**Author's Note:**

> kuya - older brother ; can be used to basically any guy older than you in respect; can also be used affectionately/in a flirtatious way  
> bringing hand to forehead* - pagmamano ; greeting elders and showing respect by bringing their hand to your forehead  
> sari-sari - neighborhood convenience store that's usually just a window and a person manning it; you call out and buy the things you need, hence 'kuyaaa pa loaaad' bc they're usually connected to people's houses so you have to yell


End file.
